


Intonation

by nangka



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:19:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4342919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nangka/pseuds/nangka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Lavellan calls him Amatus, Dorian reflects on the word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intonation

“Amatus,” he hears Lavellan say, the consonants and vowels that compromise the word are rough against each other, not as smooth or flowing as when he hears Lavellan speak in Elvish. It almost sounds like another word, the intonation is on the wrong part of the word. He also could be picking up a little of hint of the Qarinus accent, no doubt from his own influence.  
  
He could nitpick, it’s in his nature to do so. Maybe because he’s gone through so many teachers and tutors who have done the same in the name of unobtainable perfection or success. Everything about his life has been nitpicked, to lesser extant here in the South, but still he knows about the whispers around him.  
  
It's a word he's known the dictionary definition of, but understanding its personal meaning to him is something new. It's only until he hears Lavellan say the word to him, call him amatus, does that final piece of the puzzle of understanding such a loaded word construct a clear picture in his mind. It's a word he was once hesitant to say because it brought a level of intimacy he thought was once denied to him.    
  
“Ah-maw-tiss,” Lavellan repeats again, exaggerating and butchering the language that cradled human civilization and Thedas.  
  
Most would cringe, Dorian expects himself to. He should quickly stop this spiraling descent into linguistic death before it gets worse. Yet he doesn’t, he feels his lips curve up -- he’s smiling. Then he laughs, but it’s soft and subdued. He teases him too much, a little cruel to be kind, some sugar to help the lyrium go down sort of  attitude when he’s being particularly difficult.  
  
“I suppose that reaction means I should stick with something Elven.” Dorian's intention isn’t to discourage him, but...  
  
“Maybe it’s for the better, _Amatus_.” He says, pronouncing the word correctly, before he kisses on the lips briefly until he speaks again. "You're much better at it, and I must confess, the way you say the vowels in particular is something to behold."  
  
" _Vhenan_ ," Lavellans whispers into Dorian’s ear, this time the word sounds far less cacophonous. Dorian also knows that tone he’s using, one that usually leads to far less clothing and bodies pressed against each other.  
  
“Now you’re just teasing me.” Dorian can admit defeat, sometimes, but he likes winning and being the one who teases far more.  
  
“How the tables have turned.” Lavellan takes his hand, and Dorian doesn’t even need to ask where they’re going. 


End file.
